Project Team Beta's Writing Challenge 2013
by hummingbirds2
Summary: A prompt for every week of the year! A collection of stories - how many who can say? Jane Bodehouse has an epiphany! Sookie and Eric get loved up with some magic! Bill thinks some violent thoughts!
1. The Molotov Cocktail

**PTB Writing Challenge 2013**

**Challenge Number/Title****: 2/The Empty Glass**

**Content Descriptors****: Hurt/Comfort/Humour**

**Character Pairing:**** Jane Bodehouse**

**Beta'd By: All About Eric (thanks so much, especially for your comma patience x)**

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Summary

Jane Bodehouse has an epiphany. Set in Deadlocked.

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The Molotov Cocktail

She washed and she moisturised.

She clipped and she plucked, eyebrows and chin.

She brushed and she sprayed every last strand of her silver-streaked hair into submission.

The woman eyed her face in the mirror, first one side and then the other_. Not good, but not too bad_, she thought, _considering_. Her cheekbones were still to die for, as sharp and defined as her lips were soft and full. She hadn't been crowned Miss Red River Valley or Miss Razorback or Miss Renard Parish for nothing. Oh no! She'd been a real looker, with a face and figure that drove many a man to distraction or erection, and many a woman to envy or something else, if that's the way they rolled.

But that was then…

And in between then and now, there had been.…

Usually Jane Bodehouse didn't bother to look in the mirror. Why would she? She'd seen her reflection plenty, in the bottom of an empty glass. That told her all she needed to know. It was like an old 80's song, the one she sang along to at the bar sometimes, that said -

"My life's a mess I wait for you to pass; I stand here at the bar; I hold an empty glass."

Of course, she rarely stood for long at the bar; sitting was safer and meant she could enjoy her home away from home, Merlotte's, for longer - without being ejected. Nicely ejected, of course, but still removed for her own safety and everyone else's comfort. That's the way it was.

And nobody cared what Jane Bodehouse looked like. Well, maybe Marvin, her long-suffering son, cared, but Jane knew she was more trouble to him than she was worth sometimes. Today though, Jane cared and she took time over her appearance. She knew how to primp and preen; it had just been a while … a long while.

As Jane turned towards the closet, she caught a mirrored glimpse of herself, upright in her underwear. She had to admit that, along with her hopes and dreams, her figure had gone south sometime over the years. She shrugged a little. On the upside, all those liquid lunches and dinners meant she was still slim, and in the right outfit….

Jane pulled out a dress – the only one in her closet. Its style was all Louisiana - no sleeves, fitted under the breasts and across the belly till it flared out to float around the legs. There was a simple bolero jacket to match. She couldn't remember buying it, or the dress for that matter, but they looked clean, and both items were actually hanging up, uncrumpled. That was a miracle. Jane took it as a sign and wriggled into the dress, smoothing the soft fabric down carefully, before putting on a pair of comfy flats. Jane liked flats. This pair looked a little scuffed, but they were her lucky ones. Or at least, they found their way home with her in them, most of the time.

Jane regarded herself in the full length mirror. _"_My legs don't need heels," she murmured to nobody there. "They still go all the way right up to my ass. Even if that ass's got a bar stool imprint on it." Jane shook her head. "No more. No bar stools for me. I'm gonna sit in the light from now on."

Next, Jane rooted around in the mound at the bottom of her closet. She felt a little surge of surprise at her actions. She was even surprised that she felt surprise. Jane hadn't felt anything much for … a long while. The contents of all those glasses she'd emptied had kept her numb. Just the way she'd liked it. Until now, it seemed. Now here she was, hunting for a matching purse! _Gonna be all matchy-matchy and be happy about it 'n all._ She giggle-snorted to herself.

Jane knew it'd been that near-death experience at Merlotte's that had done this. When that Molotov cocktail smashed through the window in a hail of glass, right next to her, all hell had broken loose. Well, fire, if not hell! And it was like she'd seen the light, and not just the flames burning bright. Somehow, she'd broken loose from her permanent daze and re-inhabited her body. She'd felt things too. She'd felt pain from the cut on her head and panic from the noise and heat, but her mind had felt clear and bright. Amazing! She'd been able to escape, once she'd found her feet, lickety-split. Yeah, she'd done real well. What a night!

Jane smiled as she pulled out a peachy clutch that still remembered its original shape. A bit like she did now. She remembered what it felt like to be alive. Yes, after that Molotov-cocktail night, Jane realised she'd been 'dead' for years and years and years. She didn't know how it had happened exactly. But after she'd loved a man who'd left her in a world of broken promises with a broken heart and a son, one comforting glass, drunk to lift the mood or deaden the pain, had led only to an empty glass.

And that empty glass had led to another glass to empty, and a bar stool for a home away from home. Miss Renard Parish had fallen, and fallen hard.

Feeling a little sad for things that couldn't be changed, Jane sang her anthem under her breath, while filling the clutch.

"I've been there and gone there, I've lived there and bummed there, I drank there and I gave there. I've had enough of the way things have been done."

It wasn't exactly how the song went, but it was how Jane remembered it.

"You alright in there, Mom?" she heard Marvin ask, from outside her bedroom door.

_Am I alright_?

Jane looked at herself in the mirror again, and was pleasantly surprised. Someone, neat and tidy, with clear-ish eyes stared back. She patted a stray strand of hair back into place, feeling the tenderness of her scalp beneath. Just above her hairline, a fading scar was all that remained of the slash she'd taken on the night of the bombing. Jane didn't mind. It was her permanent reminder that she was alive and that her life could be gone in an instant. She'd been real lucky that night. She nodded at her reflection in affirmation.

That night, Lord Almighty, she'd been shaken up. And just in case it had been the Lord himself, giving her this chance to get back into the land of the living, Jane was going to thank him for it, every day for the rest of her life. She would pray for forgiveness for her weakness, and for strength to live better too.

Marvin tapped at the door. "Mom? You know, you can't be late. You ready to go?"

"Sure, honey," she said, through the door. "Meetcha at the car."

"Okay. But don't be long." Marvin's footsteps receded down the hall.

Jane wet her lips. She was ready. She wouldn't be worshipping on a bar stool today.

She grabbed her jacket. It was time for that new start.

* * *

Jane sat in the light. This was her new spot - at the table by the window in Merlotte's. No bar stool – no way. In the day, the sunlight shone in and she could look out. She never knew who she might see or what might happen. At night, the lighting over the car park made any life outside seem even more interesting.

Inside, Pete Townsend was singing her song, The Empty Glass, on the old jukebox. She listened, as she watched the world outside the window.

"Don't worry, smile and dance  
You just can work life out  
Don't let down moods entrance you  
Take the wine and shout."

Well, she didn't have wine.

Bud Light would have to do. She looked into her glass, prayed for strength and then forgiveness for this weakness. She thanked the Lord for the day, raised her glass in salute and Amen, and then sipped. That homage done, Jane resumed her watch out the window. She didn't want to miss Sookie's arrival. Today, this was her job. She was being relied upon by her friends, here at Merlotte's, to give them the heads-up when Sookie arrived. It was Sookie Stackhouse's Surprise Birthday Party, and she, Jane, had been invited.

Yes, life was good. Jane had done with drowning her sorrows. From now on, every day would be a celebration, and every celebration needed a toast. Right?

"To life," Jane said to herself, happily.

She emptied her glass!

The End

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Lyrics from Empty Glass on the Empty Glass album by Pete Townshend 1980

Disclaimer: Thank you to Charlaine Harris for letting me play with her wonderful characters from the Southern Vampire Mystery Series.


	2. Love-Magic

PTB Writing Challenge 2013

Challenge Number/Title: 3/Word Play

Content Descriptors: Romance

Character Pairing: Sookie Stackhouse and Eric Northman

Beta'd By: All About Eric (as always, thanks so much. x)

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Summary

"The night swelled with the beneficent kind of love-magic that sweeps couples away." Sookie is entranced, along with Eric, on the night of her twenty-eighth birthday. Set in Deadlocked. The prompt was Word Play. Cabbage, summit, king, and tomb had to be used and I have played with a lot of Charlaine Harris's own words in Deadlocked and Dead to the World.

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The Beneficent Kind Of Love Magic

On the night of my twenty-eighth birthday, Eric and I sat on the back steps of my house, side by side.

I said, "For weeks, it seems like we haven't really been a couple, though you still tell everyone I'm your wife. Lately, that's just meant we have sex. I know it's a tradition that guys don't like relationship talks. I don't think I do, either. But we have to have one."

Eric said, "Let's go inside."

"No. That might end up with us in bed." I looked up at the beautiful starlit sky.

And the night swelled with magic, the beneficent kind of love-magic that sweeps couples away.

"If it's talk you're wanting, I know a few words we can play with," Eric said. "Porch swing?"

"Eric!"

"Kitchen table?"

"So we've gone inside now, have we?"

"Rug in front of the fire?"

"It's not cold, Eric."

"Shower?"

I should have seen that one _coming_. Ha Ha! My silence only encouraged Eric.

"I love you," he said.

In my mind, I went straight to my happy place where I kept good memories of love and peace … and showering. It was like a balm to my unhappiness. The shower - the first place I'd let Eric love me. And vice versa. Okay, it had been sex, not exactly love then, but sex with feelings. And now…

I said, "I love you too, Eric." The security light glinted off his blond hair, the same colour as mine. Our blue eyes met, his intent with desire and heat. A little shock ran through my body. I wanted to touch him, to have him touch me. And then I was unhappy that we weren't touching.

_Play now; words later_, the night magic said to me. _It is your birthday, after all_.

"You remember how it went, Eric?" I asked.

"The shower? Our first time?" he clarified.

I nodded. "Both." I let my arm slide against his. Just touching. The hairs on my arm quivered to attention.

"My memories have returned, but who knows how exact they are? Are your memories of that shower … good?"

"Oh yes, I have _very_ good memories of the occasion." I pressed my arm against his. Cool, velvety but firm flesh met my warmth. Just the way I liked it.

"Where do we start? Inside?" Eric asked.

"Okay, inside," I agreed. After all, having Eric _inside_ was my favourite place for him to be. Silly, I thought, but it was a relief to have made the decision to give myself this birthday treat. Who knew what tomorrow might bring?

He took my hand in his large one.

I looked down at our joined hands. Love and pain went hand in hand too, I suddenly realised. Love could be gone in an instant through death, betrayal, distance, magic spells… That had been my experience. But at this moment, under the stars, our love wasn't over, not yet.

Eric's hand gently squeezed mine. I looked up into his eyes and let myself feel my love for him, bright and strong in my heart. "We started with me in the shower," I said. Perfect, I thought. I wanted to wash away the heat of the day and let the heat of the night take me. "A minute later, you came in after me, naked."

* * *

I was wet and waiting. The warm shower-spray bathed my hair and body. My heart beat up-tempo. Eric seemed to be taking his time.

I groped for the soap.

Right on cue, Eric pulled back the curtain. I gasped, surprised that he'd managed to surprise me, even though I'd been expecting him. He stepped in to join me saying, "I'll do that for you." He remembered his opening lines exactly.

I stayed still as Eric took the soap from my hands.

His eyebrows rose in question.

"Perfect entrance," I said. And I was amazed at how ready I was to jump him. Eric was in the mood too; his fangs were peeking out and his other extendable body-part was already up and about. Eric looked the same as he did back then; I had a few more scars to show for time passing.

"Tell me if I get this wrong or if you would like to change the script." Eric soaped my body, carefully washing my arms and sides, moving his long fingers across my chest and belly, but never touching my breasts. And boy, did those puppies want to be touched. They were used to his devoted attention.

"You didn't touch my breasts back then either," I confirmed, as they quivered.

"No," Eric said, softly. "You'd had my blood. I could feel your embarrassment and indecision about the situation. But I could feel your desire, too. I was waiting for you to decide what you wanted to happen, before I got too personal." As if getting into the shower, naked and uninvited, hadn't been personal enough!

I smiled, and said, "Mmmm", when Eric's lathered fingers slipped low down, skimming across my hips. "I remember you were washing me thoroughly and I was awash with conflicting emotions. I didn't realise you could feel those so clearly, even then."

Eric shrugged. "I can't feel you now. You'll have to tell me how you're feeling," he said. "Turn around, lover." The word 'lover' was like a warm caress to my heart.

I turned under the spray. "My libido is hopping up and down. It was back then too," I told him.

"I hoped you could feel my own_ desire_ poking into your back, so you knew how I felt."

"Desire! Is that what you're calling it?" Right on cue, I felt Eric's gracious plenty connect with my spine. "You were lucky not to scare me off with that thing, Eric. I could feel your 'desire', and you weren't even standing that close to me."

Eric chuckled. "Then it's lucky for me you're a brave woman, Sookie Stackhouse."

We were silent, cocooned in the steam and spray. Eric's strong and clever fingers massaged my shoulders now, as they had then. So far his memories were pretty darn exact. Soon I had the most relaxed and cleanest set of shoulder blades in Louisiana, and then Eric shampooed my hair. Supple fingers lathered and stroked and rinsed. Every hair follicle sighed in bliss. So did I.

"Now I should ask, 'why are you trembling'? But you are not," Eric informed me.

"No. I'm not that inexperienced girl any more. I know what I want to be doing, and that is touching you." I reached for the soap in the niche and lathered my fingers. I remembered where I had touched Eric first, intimately.

I spun around, and gently grasped Eric's 'desire'. It was his turn to sigh. "In my head, I called this your Mr Happy." I folded Mr Happy up against his stomach, so I could reach around to my favourite part of Eric's anatomy - his butt. I stroked and kneaded the smooth half-orbs with my slippery fingers.

Eric moved his legs apart, obligingly. "Mr Happy? I prefer the later name, the one you invented after you'd been made happy several times."

"A gracious plenty? It does sound classier than Mr Happy. And I think it's better than say … a pleasing sufficiency or … an obliging bounty, although it is all those things." Eric made a happy noise, as I dug my fingers in and squeezed. Then I moved my hands and began to work on his chest. "Back then, I was wondering how to tell you to be careful with me … or with your burgeoning manhood or your throbbing length. But we worked it out." I stopped the word play to close my lips around his nipple and suck.

"Bite a little, "Eric said. His hands pressed against the back of my head.

I used my teeth. His hands moved restlessly over my skin … until he decided to reciprocate.

He closed his mouth over my nipple, as his hand glided between my legs. Eric's long fingers had me doing some moves of my own.

And then just like before, the next thing I knew, the water was off and Eric was drying me, and I was drying him. Then we kissed over and over. It wasn't like the first time; it was better - fuelled by need and longing and love … and an intimate knowledge of each other's bodies.

"The bed?" Eric asked, hopefully. And this time I didn't worry about ending up in bed with Eric.

Breathlessly, I nodded. He scooped me up and we landed in a tangle on my bed. We untangled and tangled again many times as the night progressed. Eric's restored memories were entirely accurate, but he was creative too. He turned my body to Jell-O and added multiple orgasms to my jar. I could still flick his Bic. It was all yikes and yahoo and yum. But the best parts were the whispered compliments and endearments, the laughter and how we held each other. I was loved, and so was Eric. It really was the best.

As we lay snuggling, warm and cool together in the afterglow, I watched midnight arrive and depart on my bedside clock. My birthday was officially over. Somehow Pam had got her wish for me – no one had hurt me on my birthday!

Then without warning, the beneficent magic was gone, along with the birthday. It was replaced by the kind of magic that rips and tears. The enchantment crept out of the woods and pounced on us. Yesterday was gone. I shivered; so did Eric, and neither of us were cold.

I sat up and looked at Eric beside me. He was beautiful; golden hair streamed out around his head over the pillow, like a halo. But this was the Eric with political baggage, not amnesiac Eric, and we had a king and queen to deal with. We'd dealt with kings and queens before, once at a blast of a summit and once when I'd found Eric liked to bowl with a severed head, as if it were a cabbage cut fresh from the stalk. Both occasions had been pretty deadly affairs, but I didn't think Felipe or Freyda intended to solve our problems by getting back into a grave or tomb, finally dead, any time soon.

_Words now, play's done_, said the new night magic. But I didn't need it to tell me what I had to do.

"We need to talk," I told Eric, firmly.

"I love you," he said to me.

"I love you too, Eric. But that's not what we're talking about, is it?"

Eric looked away. "I think not," he said, reluctantly.

I hoped we could come to an understanding.

And not to the pain part of love.

The End

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Disclaimer: Thank you to Charlaine Harris for letting me play with her wonderful characters from the Southern Vampire Mystery Series, and for her memorable words.


	3. Hell Hath No Fury

**PTB Writing Challenge 2013**

**Challenge Number/Title****: **4/A Mother's Forgiveness

**Content Descriptors****: **Horror, **Abuse**, Canon for Club Dead

**Character Pairing:** Bill Compton and Lorena Ball

**Beta'd By: **the magnificent All About Eric (thanks so much for the advice x)

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Summary

Disagreements in the family can be torture. Bill's thoughts on the subject, after he gets stuck at Russell's with Lorena. Set in Club Dead. The prompt was: Write the thoughts in a man's mind as he hurries to ask his mother's forgiveness. Warning: Abuse

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Hell Hath No Fury

_Fast footsteps._

_Coming this way._

_I'd know those steps anywhere … that scent …_

_Alright! Get ready. Sit up … straight!_

_She's here._

"I think you've got something to say to me," she said, getting right up in my face.

_Ahh! Here we go again! If she wasn't so cold, I'd be singed._

"I've had enough of this! You're embarrassing me with your misplaced loyalties. Where's your loyalty to me – your family? You would be nothing! Nothing, if not for me!"

_Did I just shrink? Sink? Seems like her disapproval still has the power to hurt me, even after all these years. Humiliation's flowing where my blood should be, the same blood as hers._

"Well? What have you got to say?"

_Nothing! You know I won't tell you. I've told you that. And then, I've told you that again. But … I want to tell you. I want to please you. I want you to love me, not hate me. I want you to be proud of me. But I can't tell you what you want to know. Heads would roll - probably mine - so I'm saying nothing._

"Still got a tongue in your head?" she demanded, tapping her foot. "Tell me what I need to know!"

_Yes, I still have my tongue! Don't stick it out at her to prove it. That would be childish… Her eyes are so angry. Two raging pools of brown with my face trapped, reflected inside. But I can't tell. Yet the compulsion to please … to tell … it's pulling at my mouth, my heart, my mind. Don't go there! Just relax. Her presence might be compelling, but she can't compel you. Not that easily. You're strong. Not a child any more. Well, you'll always be her child, but… That tapping foot's getting on my nerves. Probably like my silence is getting on hers._

"Tell me!"

_No! If looks could kill, I'd be dead and gone. Think. Think. Think. Quick! Quick! Quick! What to say to diffuse the situation? I don't want her to be this furious. Don't want to disappoint either! But I can't tell her. It's not my secret to tell._

"If you tell me, I can get you out of this mess you've got yourself into, darling."

_So it's her soft, sweet voice now, and endearments._

"Don't look at me like that."

_Shit! How do I look? Did I raise my eyebrows? Damn! I guess I showed my disagreement with her assessment … about who it was that got me into this mess. But having had the time to think about my situation, I know it is partly my fault. I should never have told her anything in the first place. Not a damn thing. But I trusted her with a little and now she wants the lot. I'd just wanted her to be proud of me._

"Come on, let me help you. Just tell me."

_Still playing nice with that syrupy voice. And she's backed off a bit. Her foot's stopped tapping too. The years may pass, but she's always fight first, and then when her brain catches up, it's all womanly wiles and pleading and wheedling. But that never lasts long. Volatile is her middle name. Did I just smile some sort of smile? She's smiling at me - eyes soft now, but still deadly. Don't be fooled. You've been fooled enough already. Her smile's fading. She can tell your resolve's not weakening. Shit! Think! I think I'd think better if I wasn't so thirsty! But I doubt there's any possibility of hospitality coming my way, until I tell her what she wants. If my mouth gets any drier, I won't be able to say anything at all. That's probably a good thing then._

"Alright, if you don't want to tell … tell me her name. Let your … girlfriend" – she snorted and eye-rolled – "take the fall for divulging all."

_Lord! That's a relief. They haven't found her. Not yet anyway._

"Why are you so happy? You can't hide how you feel from me. You never could. You said this girlfriend was nothing to you. Just a convenience. Some trashy barmaid to serve your needs while you lived in that backwater … getting on with your project."

_Was that a green flash in her eyes? That would be the jealousy! She never did like to share me with other women - without her say-so, anyway. C'mon, think. Say something to improve the situation? C'mon, quick._

"Last chance. Tell me. Now!"

_Don't tell her. You can't tell her what she wants to know. So what can you give her instead? What will make her feel better about this … rejection? Maybe, some reassurance … that I still need her. That I still love her … like any child would. That's it! Maybe if I appeal to her … motherly … instincts. Maybe she'll feel like protecting me rather than dissecting me. Go on, let her know you care before she goes from Volatile to Violent. Hurry, it's worth a try. "_Lorena…" I wet my dry lips and swallowed hard.

"He speaks! Make this something I want to hear."

"Lorena… Forgive me!"_ Give her sad eyes. Well, that's easy, because I am sad that it's come to this. And I didn't see it coming, which makes me sadder. A sad fool! Stop the pity party, as Sookie would say. Fuck! Don't even think her name. Get on with this. _"Forgive me for causing you this trouble. I only spoke of my project in the first place to make you proud. I hoped you'd be happy with my success in the Queen's service. And you were happy. I know. I felt it. I basked in it. Please, Lorena. Don't be so angry. You know I like to please you."_ Her eyes are soft again. Green glints gone. _"Let's talk about this impasse. See if we can come to some arrangement."

"Aw, Bill, I love your puppy-dog eyes. So cute."

_She's kneeling down. She's stroking my cheek. She's so small and delicate and … deadly. Don't forget deadly._

"You want my forgiveness for your disobedience ... for being a bad boy. They say a mother's love is patient and forgiving, even when the child is breaking her heart."

_That's the idea. Perhaps we can work this out._

She stood. "You're relieved. I'm relieved too. For a moment there, I thought I'd have to get all disciplinarian … on your ass!" _Shit! She's winking. She's happy with her use of the vernacular. Smile now._ "Let's talk about this arrangement then, my clever bad boy. See if we can make each other happy again. Tell your girlfriend to bring the database here. We'll let Russell and Sophie-Anne sort out a deal between them. Of course, I'll get a finder's fee and you'll get … me."

_Fuck! Sookie can't come here. She's my other project for the Queen. I can't lose her too._

"You don't like that idea, Bill? You're … reluctant. Don't want to bring your girlfriend home to meet your mother? Is she too trashy? No, that's not it."

_Careful now. _

"I know what it is! You're protective of her." Her eyebrows rose. "Yet, you agreed to dump her ass," – she smiled – "like I wanted you to. But you do care what happens to her…"

_She's not happy about that. Lie now, but put some truth into it or she'll know. She knows you too well._ "It's not that exactly. As you taught me, I haven't told her anything about the vampire world. She knows nothing. I don't want to involve a human unnecessarily."

"I don't know what you're so worried about. We'll glamour her and send her home none the wiser."

_But that's just it. She can't be glamoured. If she comes here, you'll find that out and so will Russell. And Russell loves collecting interesting things. If Sophie-Anne's telepath goes missing as well as the database, I'll be even deader than I already am. Lorena's waiting… Damn, I have too many women in my life. C'mon, make a different suggestion._ "Let's send one of the Weres to get the project from Bon Temps. I'll ring … the girl and let her know what to do." _Sookie'll go to Eric. He's my best chance at getting out of this. He might even be investigating already after my no-show._

"No Weres. One's already gone missing. Get your girlfriend here with the database. That sounds like a sensible arrangement, don't you think, my child? And if you want to protect her so much... Well, maybe we can keep her safe here in our thrall for a little while."

"No, she's mine." _Did I just say that out loud? Shit! Shit! Shit! I did. Fool!_

"Oh! Possessive! You won't share! Hmmm. What makes you … covet her so much? She must be some bloodbag. More like a prized possession. I find myself getting very interested in this 'girlfriend', Bill. Come on now, you know you want to please me. Bring her home to 'Mother', with the database, of course. If you agree, I'll get you out of this chair. And these chains. Silver doesn't suit your complexion at all. Then I'll forgive you your disobedient ways."

_What to say? I couldn't agree. Maybe a change of direction._

"Lorena, I don't think I should betray Sophie-Anne. She's a very powerful, ancient monarch..."

"Argh! There are too many women in your life, Bill." _Funny! I just thought that myself._ "You were in my thrall only a few days ago, but that was then. Now I can see where I really stand. Last!"

_Mentioning Sophie-Anne might have been a mistake._ "No, Lorena, you do enthral me. You know that. You felt it. You are the one I want to be with, so please… Please don't betray me." _Argh! She's quick. Those slaps smart._

"I am not the betrayer here. This arrangement will be good for both of us. Now tell me her name - your Bon Temps trash - so we can get on with it."

"Lorena, forgive me. I can't tell you. Trust me on this. Let me speak to Sophie-Anne…" _Wrong choice! Her eyes flashed. I should have said Eric. Now here's her influence again. Like tentacles – creeping and probing - trying to suck the information out of my mind. It's going to get a lot worse than this, but I know I can withstand the compulsion for a while. She's not going to like it though. She loves to be in control of her … possessions._ "Lorena, please…"

"Don't ask for forgiveness again, sweetheart. You may have wanted a mother's forgiveness, but you are not a man and I am not your mother. I am your maker and makers _make_ their children do as they're told. Your blood is my blood. You are mine, although you seem to have forgotten that."

_As if I could ever forget._ "I am yours, Lorena. You have me." _You have me alright! Chained up in silver to a chair in Russell's torture … garage ... converted stable. Whatever!_

"Shut up, Bill. You say it, but you don't act it." _Damn! She's picking up a knife. Volatile has just gone Violent._ "Your … memory disappoints me. It appears you have forgotten who the most important woman in your life is. But don't worry, I have a solution." _Worst possible scenario coming up._ "If I carve my name into your … chest, you will see it and remember me - the one you belong to. The one who enthrals you. The one who should know all your secrets."

"I haven't forg-"

"Didn't I tell you to shut up, my darling?"

_Argh! I think that slap broke my jaw. How am I supposed to talk if I can't speak? Okay, so maybe it's a good thing, but screaming's going to be a bitch._

"For now, I'm not interested in your whore's name. Maybe later. We've got time. At this moment, I just want you screaming my name, so you'll remember it."

_Shit, she means it. Not in a good way. Here it comes. Keep it together. Was I just screaming? Yes, you know you were. Something stings... But my jaw hurts more. What has she sliced into me? Damn, just the one letter._

"That's "L" for Lorena, Bill, and "L" for lover too. Look at me." _Do it._ "That's right. Aw, look at you - all beautiful brown eyes, betrayed. But I am the one betrayed." _She's really starting to enjoy this._ "You have betrayed me. I am the one whose wishes you should be putting first."

"Lorena…" _That hurts. Just speaking._

"See! You do know my name. That's an improvement already. But your disobedience has hurt me, Bill. Of course, I know that sometimes we hurt the ones we love without realising it. But sometimes, we realise it and … still do it anyway. I'm sure I could compel you if I wanted to, but where would be the fun in that?"

_Twisted smile, hard eyes... She's going to enjoy hurting me – the one she loves - to get her own way. I can feel the cold thrill that the thought of it is giving her. How could I have forgotten how much she likes to have control over me, violently? She's smiling now, happy to hurt._

"Once we've finished with my name, we'll see if you can remember your girlfriend's. Oh, lookie! That letter 'L' has finished healing up. Now, I'll have to do it all over again. Perhaps more silver is needed to slow the healing... Decisions... Incisions..."

_Here she comes again. Slowly this time. Lethal and loving it … more than me. How could I have become enthralled by her? Again! If I ever get out of this, I wonder if Sookie will forgive me. Of course, that's only necessary if she finds out I betrayed her. And even then, she's had my blood; she'll want to please me; be mine! Yes, she'll forgive me… She always does._

_But for now, forget her name._

The End

* * *

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Charlaine Harris and The Southern Vampire Mystery series. I'm am only playing.


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